


A Different Point of View

by mcal



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Desperate, Drabble, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Hut Scene, Kylo's PoV, connected, very very complicated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-10 21:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20534534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcal/pseuds/mcal
Summary: Why is the Force connecting us?Kylo Ren is left alone with his thoughts and memories between Force connections with Rey... until they are connected in her hut... A completed Drabble/Oneshot of Kylo Ren/Ben Solo's POV of the hut scene.





	A Different Point of View

**Author's Note:**

> ALPHA LOVE AND THANKS TO LadyKenz347 and Frumpologist. I love these two!!  
Twitter had a gif showing a close up of these two's hands as Luke entered the hut... And I just had to write something with it <3 This is other wise unbeta'd and all errors are my own.  
Some lines are taken straight from The Last Jedi for the sake of recreating the scene, but I own no part of the SW franchise or LF, this is just for fun...

* * *

_ Why is the Force connecting us?  _

He’s asked that to himself over and over again. He dares not visit the Supreme Leader until he has a clearer understanding… Until it’s possible that maybe he can control it...

Kylo’s vision blurs. 

What if the Supreme Leader already senses this roiling turmoil? This conflict that tears at Kylo’s heart… 

This eternal internal struggle within the confines of bone, muscle, sinew, and flesh that constantly rages for the high ground? 

Light. Dark. 

Good. Evil. 

Serenity. Passion. 

Balance. Chaos. 

He gasps for air, stealing deep lungfuls of the cold stale air of his quarters; wholly unlike the warm, balmy, flower-and-sea-scented air of Chandrila that used to kiss against his cheeks as he would race along the shoreline, Chewie chasing after him—

_ No _ . 

He squeezes his eyes shut, wrenching the memory from all conscious thought. 

His side would now be forever marked with an angry scar from where Chewie shot him. Because Kylo had killed Han. 

_ Why did you hate him? _ she’d asked in their last connection. She called him a liar at the end of their connection, but he hadn’t lied to her. Not once since they’d met. 

He didn’t hate Han Solo. There was a time when he wanted nothing more than to  _ be _ Han Solo. 

But there were also too many times of watching his own father recoil from Ben in confusion and fear. And dispositing of him with Luke’s newly formed band of students had been the last straw. 

He has no need for a father anymore. 

Especially one whose boots always itched to be anywhere but where he was supposed to be. Where Ben was. 

Anger coils in his gut, boiling under clothing as he clenches his fists, drawing sharp breaths. Flashes of their Force connection conversation assail his mind, descending to toture and tear at his already splintered soul. Claim the jagged shards as their spoils of war. 

_ You are a monster.  _

_ Yes, I am.  _

Inhale and hold.  _ Two. Three. Four. _ Exhale and count.  _ Two. Three. Four. Five. Six _ . 

_ Let the past die. Kill it if you have to.  _

The Jedi. The Temple. 

_ There is no death. There is the Force. _

Han. 

He remembers his father’s eyes were hazel and always seemed to bear the weight of a hidden scheme, one last pl—

Kylo’s eyes fly open, wide and burning with images of years long gone. 

He killed Han Solo, but he’s not free. 

Not even close.

His lips settle into a thin line as he looks around his quarters, summoning the rest of his clothing and gloves to his side. 

He has the distinct feeling of being more alone and a captive to his own fears than ever before. 

* * *

He’s only just made it back to his quarters from being summoned to the bridge from something inconsequential and beneath his attention when he senses her. 

Rey. 

His door slides shut and he feels her before turning around to face her. 

Sorrow. Grief. Impermanence.  _ Loneliness _ . 

“I wondered if you’d show up now,” she says, and he’s startled by what he sees. 

“What happened?” He’s jolted by seeing her hair down, dripping and clinging to her neck and shoulders. She’s shivering under a blanket near a small fire, but what’s most jarring is the look in her eyes. That there’s no look at all. They’re void of all previous spark. 

She motions for him to sit, and he so he does. He sits and listens. 

Because Rey is talking to him.  _ Confiding  _ in him this revelation from the Force. She is telling him of water and a cave, of her absolute certainty in finding answers… She’s revealing the deepest things of her heart to him, and if he listens hard enough, perhaps he can believe that she truly wanted to tell him all along. 

_ Him _ and not Luke. 

Or the traitor from Starkiller Base. 

Or Han… 

“I thought I’d find answers here,” she says, a sadness he wants to absorb and shield her from lacing the air around them. She blinks into the flames, speaking just above a whisper. “I was wrong. I’d never felt so alone.” 

“You’re not alone,” he answers, meaning it more than anything he’d ever said before, willing his words to wrap around her, bind themselves to her heart from across the stars. 

Her voice is so soft, and her lips are so full as they part. “Neither are you.” It’s so tender, so achingly inviting, it lances through him. “It isn’t too late.”

_ It is, _ he thinks to himself. He knows it is. It’s a slow-acting poison knowing the monstrosities that lie under the surface of the soul, waiting for the poison to finally take hold and vanquish the remaining Light. 

But the Light is stubborn. 

The Light pulls and glows and burns. 

He’s never been able to snuff it out completely. 

And now.  _ Now.  _ Being bound and connected to his equal bathed in warm and inviting flames of the Light… 

He’s not sure he could if the time comes. Not sure if he altogether wants to...

Her hand lifts from her lap, and he’s rendered speechless again as her fingers uncurl from her palm. Her arm stretches from it’s clenched hold, and he can’t breathe. He looks from her hand, reaching closer to him, back to her face, asking with his eyes if she knows what she’s doing. If she really means what she’s asking of him…

She draws a shallow breath and lets her hand linger in the space between them. 

Unclenched. Unwavering. Unapologetic. 

He removes his glove without another thought, uncertain of what he expects to happen. She’s extended her arm to him. Not fully, but it’s enough to make a statement. To ask a question. 

A question he now answers as he stretches his own hand to hers. His surroundings fall away as everything centers on her. He’s drawn into what he can only presume is her hut, and he’s pleased to find he likes the thought of inhabiting her space. Pleased by the knowledge that they’re truly not as isolated in their grief as they believe. 

Doubts cloud his mind: will their fingers actually press against each other from across the galaxy? Or will they pass through… A tremor jolts under skin and he’s almost afraid to find out, afraid to venture from the safety in the unknown… 

But he forges ahead. Takes the plunge. Surrenders to the thrumming swell of the Force flowing through him… 

And twitches his fingers for the softest and quickest of brushes, one that he couldn’t be mocked for if, in fact, they came in contact with absolutely nothing but the air of his quarters… 

_ Skin.  _

Warm. Delicate. Soft. 

Rey sucks a sharp breath. 

He can’t look anywhere but her. Her wide hazel eyes with flecks of gold reflecting at him in the fire light. The smooth contours of her face. Her parted pink lips. Dripping hair clinging to her neck and shoulders. A tear tracking down her cheek. 

His throat bobs and he can’t breath. His mouth is sand and he can’t breathe. 

He’s never felt so alive, so aware of the Force. 

It’s the most innocent and infinitesimal meeting of fingertips to fingertips, and nothing can be the way it ever was before. Before this moment of touching Rey’s hand. Before this moment of seeing, knowing, and understanding that this nobody, this scavenger abandoned by gutless, worthless drunkards, is all he’ll ever need. 

From now until the stars fade and die. 

And he doesn’t want to return to before. 

It’s peace. Balance. Home. 

More home than the walls that housed his childhood on Chandrila. More home than the rusted piece of junk Han had loved more than life. More than his mother’s library. Than Chewie’s furry embrace. 

_ Rey.  _

She’s looking at him as he’s gazing at her, drinking the sight of her in, as if he’s been the one on a desert all these years, parched for water, and she’s an oasis revealed. 

She’s looking at him and she’s not looking away. Not slapping his hand or calling for her Lightsaber...

Would she let him rise up from this object he’s now occupying? Would she allow him to possibly make his way to her on his knees? Would she grant herself permission to shift and angle towards him as he closes the already diminishing space between them and kneels before taking her his arms? 

Would she cry into his chest, knowing she’s safe? That’s she wanted? That there’s no fear in the Force, only peace— 

“ _ Stop _ !” 

They turn as one, Rey’s hand falling from his outstretched fingers as piercing blue eyes connect with his. 

Luke throws out a gloved hand…

The hut blows away…

And Kylo is thrown from the vision back to the cold walls of his quarters. 

And he’s alone. 

_ Alone.  _

“No,” he cries, jumping to his feet, pacing and thinking of Rey. Focusing this vibrating energy pulsing through his veins. 

_ Nononononononononononono. _

He can’t get back. He needs to get back. Kriff he needs to get back. What if Luke draws his lightsaber on her? He needs to get back. He needs to get to Rey. 

He was done for that moment their hands touched. The Force had shown him flashes of her past, and in doing so, revealed her greatest need. And Kylo knew, he  _ knew _ down to his marrow, he could find new, resolved, unflinching purpose in being all that she needed and more. 

His eyes fell shut and he forced himself to breathe. 

Focusing on Rey. 

Reaching out with his senses. Letting the world around him fade away. 

Seeking for that singular ray of Light from across the galaxy. 


End file.
